Boy Talk
by magentabear
Summary: Questions are asked. Secrets are found out. Threats, glares and shouts are exchanged. Language is far from clean. And they say males can't communicate.


This is a companion piece to _Girl Talk_, but can easily be read on its own.

Disclaimer: belongs to JKR, not me.

Setting: Second half of HBP, but before Harry and Ginny are an item.

**Boy Talk**

Ron was in a good mood. No, scratch that, Ron was in an _excellent_ mood. It had been seventeen days since Lavender had ditched him. Seventeen days without 'Won Won' screeched in his ear and seventeen days without guilt. More importantly, it had been seventeen glorious days in which Hermione had given him soft smiles and gentle touches.

Of course, it had also been seventeen days without a proper snog, but that was okay. He'd gone sixteen years without one; he could go seventeen days.

But _really_, was wholly necessary for Hermione to look that pretty and stand that close and smell that good? She did understand why his book bag was always 'too full' to hold his Charms book, right?

Ron shook his head. No need to go down that path. He refocused on the chessboard in front of him and sighed. "Any time now, Neville."

Neville grimaced and made his move.

Ron smiled as he made his own move. He could win this in six moves, four if Neville didn't spot—okay, so he did. Good job, Neville.

The game proceeded in silence.

Ron was two moves from winning when Neville cleared his throat.

"Er, can I ask you something?" he asked nervously.

Ron refrained from telling Neville he just had.

"When are you going to get together with Hermione?"

Ron choked. It wasn't a pretty sound, but please forgive the poor boy. He'd fully expected Neville to ask for flying lessons or some help getting into the kitchen. _This_ was not expected. Wasn't welcomed, either.

Neville paled slightly, but kept his gaze level.

Ron finally found a voice. "_What?_" Sadly, the voice he found was that of a nine-year-old girl, but it was a voice nonetheless.

"Dean and Seamus and I would like to know when you and Hermione are going to get together."

Ron looked around the common room desperately. He half hoped Harry would barge in yelling about Death Eaters, but that seemed unlikely. Damn it, he'd have to go through with the conversation.

"Who says we are?" Ron asked as aggressively as he could. It didn't come out that intimidating, however, because his voice was still channeling the spirit of a spry young ballerina.

"Damn short straw," Neville muttered. He closed his eyes briefly before continuing. "Look, Ron, it's obvious you and Hermione like each other and—"

"Well, of course," Ron cut in (with his natural voice again, thankfully). "We're friends."

Neville ignored the interruption. "Now that you and Lavender have been broken up for awhile, we were thinking that it was… ah, time for things to start up."

"What things?"

"You know… _things_."

"Things with Hermione?"

"Yes, Ron, things with Hermione."

Ron opened his mouth to protest the occurrence of any _things_ ever going on with Hermione, but found he just didn't have the heart for it. One can only lie so many times before it becomes slightly pathetic. His shoulders drooped.

Neville looked heartened by this change. "Ron, we all know it's going to happen eventually. Why are you waiting?"

"You know."

And Neville realized that he did.

They played three more games without a mention of Hermione. Ron won them all.

xxxxx

The next day, Ron was enjoying a nice nap in the library when Harry woke him up and demanded he go to Quidditch practice.

"You're my best mate and all, Harry," Ron grumbled as the walked to the pitch, "but if the team declares mutiny on you, don't think I'll be protecting you."

"Do you even know what mutiny means?"

"Did I use it wrong?"

"Well, no," Harry admitted.

"Then I know what it means."

"Or you're parroting back what Hermione said yesterday."

"Or that."

They discussed tactics for the upcoming Slytherin match until they reached the changing room. It was empty.

"You git," Ron groaned. "How early are we?"

"I don't want to hear it, Weasely. I have to get here before the rest of the team, and you show up late whenever I don't drag your arse down with me."

Ron made a very rude gesture and Harry laughed. This did not improve Ron's mood. He slumped against the farthest wall.

"Damn you, Harry, I'm _tired_," Ron complained. "You _know_ I was up late finishing my History essay."

"I'm not taking the blame for that one, mate. You could have had that thing done by eleven thirty, but no, _someone_ had to ask Hermione for help. Merlin, Ron, you know how detailed she gets on those things."

Ron smiled to himself. She'd looked so pretty last night.

Harry chucked some gear at Ron. "Get moving. I want practice to start sometime tonight."

"But no one else is here yet."

"I'm sorry, I hadn't realized that had anything to do with you."

"Harry, if anyone ever offers you a leadership position, don't take it."

More gear came flying at Ron, and this time it hit his head.

xxxxx

Harry had stayed behind to clean the Quidditch equipment with Ginny, so Ron returned from practice alone. He had just stepped into the common room when Dean and Seamus accosted him.

"Practice going well?" Dean asked lightly.

"Fine."

Seamus rolled his eyes. "Returning to _the point_," he paused to glare at Dean, "we were wondering if there was anything new going on with you?

Ron picked up something less than innocent in Seamus' tone. "Should there be?"

"Neville _did_ talk to you, right?" Seamus asked.

Ron struggled to find a scathing retort, but settled with a sharp nod. "You're all mental. I'm going to bed." He turned on his heel and marched to the stairs.

"Stop waiting, Ron," Seamus called. "It's not right."

"Yeah, it's driving us all mad," Dean yelled.

Ron spun around and marched back to Dean. "You are _not_ allowed to talk to me about this."

"But Seamus is?"

"Seamus didn't date my little sister," Ron said through gritted teeth. "Though I wouldn't mind if he shut his trap, either."

"And _I_ wouldn't mind if there was some peace and quiet in the common room," Seamus said. "I'm sick of this _romance_ crap. It's ruining the vibes of the dormitories."

Ron goggled at him. "That's one of the stupidest things I've ever heard."

"That's what I said," Dean muttered.

"The vibes are ruined," Seamus insisted. "Everyone's so damn _tense_. It's driving me mad."

"I'm so sorry our personal problems are bothering you so much," Ron retorted. "But I don't see how it's any of your business."

"For the record," Dean said, "this was not my idea."

Seamus rounded on his friend. "Way to stick with us, Dean. Thanks. Really, that's just great." He turned back to Ron. "Fine, then, just Neville and I want to see you and Hermione snog a bit."

"_What?_" Ron exclaimed. "You want to _see_—"

"_No._" Seamus said quickly. "We want you to snog and get rid of all this damn drama. We do _not_ need to watch." He shuddered, and Ron couldn't help but feel slightly offended on Hermione's behalf.

Dean decided this conversation had gone on long enough; Ron was about to explode and Dean wasn't up for that kind of yelling just then. He jerked his head toward the staircase, hoping Ron would take the hint, and hauled Seamus away.

Ron, thankfully, took the hint and went to his room. He cursed the both of them on his way up.

"Have you talked to Hermione today?" Neville asked as soon as Ron entered.

"Bloody _hell_, Neville, don't jump out at people like that."

"I'm sitting on my bed. And stop avoiding it. I know you're worried about how it'll affect everything, but you and Hermione belong together. Everything else will work out."

"When did you start spouting _Witch Weekly_ bull?"

"Avoidance again," Neville said. "Classic sign of fear. Bloody annoying, that is. It's perfectly obvious she fancies you—"

"I _know_ that," Ron interrupted, then quickly clapped a hand over his mouth. "Bollocks."

"You _what_?"

"I know she does," Ron admitted. "Ginny even says she loves me, but I'll believe _that_ when I hear it from her."

"Then why aren't you together?"

"It's not time yet." Ron sat down on his bed. "You can't tell anyone, Neville. Not even Harry knows."

"That doesn't seem right."

"It's not," Ron said harshly. "We both know it, but there you go. We're in a war and he's the hero and this is the way it goes."

"But to not tell Harry? Ron, that's kind of—"

"Horrible? Yeah, I know." Ron ran a hand through his hair. "Soon as it's official, soon as everything's ready, we'll tell him."

"So what, until then you and Hermione are just friends who know you should be something more?"

Ron nodded.

"What's wrong with you?"

"More than I really want to know."

xxxxx

Ron avoided Neville for a few days. He also avoided Harry, but that was for a far better reason. Hermione's touches weren't so gentle anymore.

"Why're you so happy?" Seamus asked when Ron came into the dormitory one night.

Now, if Ron had learned anything from the Lavender debacle, it was that some things are better left private. This was one of those things. "I'm not happy," he said.

"Fine, don't tell me." Seamus settled back into his bed and flipped through a magazine. "Does it have anything to do with Hermione?"

"Sod off, Finnegan."

"Lady Love not so kind, is she?"

"What part of 'sod off' don't you understand?"

"Alright, alright, don't get your knickers in a twist."

Neville walked in just then. He took one look at the red-faced Ron, remembered the strange look he had seen on Hermione's face earlier, and turned right back around. He could write his essay without the book. Really, he didn't need to _positive_ about when to add the boomslang to increase a potion's potency. He was a decent guesser.

Neville was staring hopelessly at his essay when Harry sat down beside him. "You got a second?" he asked.

Neville nodded, glad to take a break from his homework.

"Look, this is embarrassing, so we're not going to mention it again, alright?"

Neville nodded again, a little less enthusiastically this time.

"Ginny has been, um… _giggling_ whenever she sees Ron and Hermione together these past few days," Harry said. "Do you know why?"

Neville honestly didn't know what to say.

"I mean, it's fairly obvious that they fancy each other," Harry continued. "But have they done anything about it yet?"

Neville opened his mouth to say something, found he didn't have a response and promptly shut it again.

"Never mind, forget I said anything," Harry said. He glanced over Neville's essay. "Add the boomslang after stirring the potion counterclockwise four times. That's one thing Hermione _did_ tell me."

Neville leaned over to write that down and when he looked up again, Harry was gone. He shrugged and turned back to his essay, but before he could write anything more, Dean took Harry's newly vacated seat.

"What'd Boy Wonder have to say?" Dean asked.

"Stop calling him that. He hasn't done anything to you."

"Yet," Dean muttered darkly.

"Does this have anything to do with Ginny?"

"Why would it? Oh hell, is that the Defense essay? When's it due?"

"Tomorrow."

"_Son of a—_I need to go." Dean hurried away and Neville returned to his work.

xxxxx

Tensions were running high in the dormitory the next morning.

"C'mon Seamus, I only need four more inches," Dean begged.

"_No._ I already told you, I think Snape's catching on."

Neville rushed past them on the way to the bathroom. His _mimbulus mimbletonia _needed more water.

On the other side of the room, Harry was struggling to find matching socks.

"Just wear the ones Dobby gave you," Ron suggested.

"I'm not wearing those," Harry snapped as he threw half the contents of his trunk onto the floor.

"Why not? It's not like anyone sees your socks anyway."

"I don't care, I'm not wearing them." Harry slammed to trunk closed and reached under his bed.

Ron shook his head. "Fine. Hurry up, though, I'm starving."

Harry swore under his breath.

"Weasley, we're getting out of here," Seamus called. "Dean, don't make me hex you. C'mon, Ron, they're driving me mad."

Ron risked a glance at Harry—who proceeded to tell him just what he could do and who he could do it with—and decided that he needed to get out of the room. If that meant subjecting himself to the overly interfering Seamus, so be it.

"Harry seems a bit tense, yeah?" Seamus said as they headed for the Great Hall.

"Really. I hadn't noticed."

Seamus missed the sarcasm. "He's tense. The bloke needs a proper snog," he said knowingly.

"What?"

"Keeps you loose; takes away the tension. It's my secret to a stress-free life."

"And you know this because…?"

"You're joking me, right? Merlin, you really are dense."

"I am not."

"No, you are. You should pay more attention to school gossip."

"I've got better things to do, thanks."

"If you say so," Seamus shrugged. "But I'm telling you the truth, mate. Birds keep the stress away. With all the fighting evil shite you and Harry do, you really should have one."

"Please don't ever let Hermione hear you say that."

"Do I look like a troll?" Seamus asked as the entered the Great Hall. "Seriously, though, I'm sure Hermione and Ginny need it as much as you blokes do."

"Hermione and I are not—wait, _Ginny?_ What's Ginny got to do with anything?"

"Again, listen to school gossip. And if Dean asks, this conversation never happened." Seamus shook his head. "Poor sod should've seen it coming," he muttered under his breath.

Something clicked in Ron's mind.

xxxxx

Ron cornered Harry in the corridors before Charms later that day. "Have you seen Ginny? I need to talk to her."

"No, not today."

"I'm looking for my _baby sister_ because I want to make sure she's not _hurt _over her _very recent_ break up with Dean."

"Er, I haven't seen her, mate."

"That's right, you haven't." Ron looked at Harry menacingly for a moment, then nodded. "C'mon, we're late for class." He set off walking.

Harry recovered a few moments later and caught up with his friend. "You know, Ron," he said, "Hermione's like a sister to me."

Ron blushed slightly and stared straight ahead.

Both were relieved when Neville appeared and brought the subject back to the Defense essay. Things were getting just a little too personal. And, of course, any reason to abuse Snape was more than welcome.

Because honestly, only that slimy git would assign an essay about potions for a Defense class.

xxxxx

xxxxx

The End.

And that's all I have to say about that.


End file.
